This part is difficult to describe and it would be a pain to write up the entire script, so bear with me. Robin’s mental state is pretty shaky at this point anyway.
Everything is dark. Robin can hear the old woman’s voice throughout everything. At first, she sees images of cave paintings from ancient times, mostly animals. The old woman calls these gods, the first ones humans ever knew. Robin denies it, saying they are devils, and that the devil himself fell from Heaven because he let his desires consume him.
As Robin argues, sometimes she addresses a young girl who alternately speaks with a young girl’s voice, and sometimes the old woman’s voice. The old woman counters with the argument that it was not this so-called “Devil” who fell, but God himself, as numerous atrocities were carried out in God’s name. Robin sees images of people burning at the stake. Robin says that such things were necessary, to save humanity from its misguided ways. The old woman says that it was not out of salvation that God acted, but jealousy. Jealousy that there were those like God, with power to rival Him--Witches. Robin keeps arguing, but they just go in circles. The old woman reiterates: innocent people were annihilated, all for the sake of the jealous ones who craved the power of God that they did not possess. And Robin carries the blood of those who were put to the stake.
The scene changes again: this time, Robin is in a church, and sees a young woman draped in white, bowing before the Pietà. The old woman proclaims that the girl is praying for the last time before she is condemned to the stake. Robin approaches the girl, and freezes when she sees that the girl... is her. The scene changes again, and Robin is alone. The old woman accuses her of “hunting her own shadow”, and Robin has visceral flashbacks to every witch she’s hunted until now.
Suddenly, she hears the sound of a gun cocking behind her, and turns to see Amon coldly pointing it at her. She sees all the STN-J members pointing their guns at her. “Witches must be hunted,” says Amon. Robin clutches her head and cries out that she is not a witch. She is alone again, the old woman’s voice in her head. She demands to know what makes her different from all the witches she hunted. Even if her Craft is used to hunt witches, what makes her so different from them? Was her belief that she was better than the witches she hunted all it took to justify burning them, just as they have burned at the stake for centuries? Isn’t she just continuing the cycle of violence? Robin is shaking. She hears footsteps, and sees Amon in front of her, pointing his gun. “Witches must be hunted.” Robin pleads with Amon. She needs him to understand. She’s not a witch. She needs him to put down the gun. He won’t listen. He’s pulling the trigger.
Robin’s eyes are filled with flames--and everything is darkness again.
Robin is in the church again, and sees the young girl from before in the wheelchair. She smiles at Robin, and says it can finally end. Robin blinks, and she sees before her the old woman in the wheelchair, smiling as she burns. It has been so long. And finally, finally, it is over. Robin stares in shock, watching the old woman die until there is nothing but embers and ash. She sees that the wooden cane is still partially intact, and kneels to touch it. Instantly, she understands: this is the Arcanum of the Craft, and it contains 400 years worth of knowledge. She picks it up, and holds it tight.
Amon (the real one) approaches from behind, and tells her the old woman was Methuselah, an immortal witch. The only way they can die is to be burned by a fire that consumes their entire body. Robin guesses this is why Methuselah used her, so that she could finally die. Amon supposes that memories of being burnt at the stake are strongly tied to an existence like hers... memories like that must be too sad to bear, Robin thinks.
Later that night, Robin sends a message through her compact: “Recovered a relic that is possibly related to the secret of the Craft. Standing by for further instructions.”
Everything is very dark. You can hear an old woman speaking. You see images of ancient cave paintings, of animals, mostly. The old woman calls these gods, the first ones humans ever knew. They were worshipped as gods, and so they are gods. But you deny it; these are devils. You know what you have been taught, and you repeat it: the devil fell from Heaven because he let his desires consume him. As you argue, you are faced alternatively with the old woman and with a young girl in a hood who speaks with the old woman's voice. Sometimes the old woman speaks with the young girl's voice. She/They counter your argument with this: it was not this so-called "Devil" who fell, but God himself, citing the numerous atrocities that were carried out in God's name. You see flashes of images of people burning at the stake. You tell her such things were necessary, to save humanity from its misguided ways. Not out of salvation that God acted, but jealousy, she/they counter. Yes, jealousy that there were those like God, with power to rival Him. Frantically, you keep arguing, but it just goes in circles. The old woman and the hooded girl proclaim: innocent people were annihilated, all for the sake of the jealous ones who craved the power of God that they did not possess. And you carry the blood of those who were sacrificed.
The scene changes, and you are standing in a church. A young woman is bowing before the pietà, draped all in white, praying. The old woman's voice tells you that the girl is praying for the last time before she is condemned to the stake. You slowly approach her, but you freeze, because as soon as she lifts her head you can see--she is you.
The scene changes again. You're alone, and it is dark. The old woman and the hooded girl are both here. They accuse you of hunting your own shadow, and you remember all at once: every person whose blood is on your hands, whose lives you shattered. You hear the sound of a gun cocking from behind, and turn to see... him. That man. Standing right behind you, eyes cold, dispassionately pointing a gun at your head. You're surrounded. They're all pointing their guns at you. Someone like you... has to be put down. You clutch your head and cry out: I'm not like them! Suddenly you're alone again, and the old woman's voice asks you: what makes you so different from them? Was it the belief that you're different, you're special, enough to justify destroying their lives? To propogate centuries of violence? You're shaking, and you break out in a cold sweat. You hear footsteps, and you know that man is behind you again, ready to pull the trigger on you. Someone like you must be taken care of. You're dangerous. You're forsaken. But you need him to understand, you need him to put the gun down and listen. He's not listening. You plead, and plead, and slowly he pulls the trigger...
For a moment, all you see is fire.
You're back in the church again, unharmed. This time, the old woman sits before you at the altar, her body slowly catching fire. But she does not seem pained. She smiles at you, and with a sigh of relief, says that it's been so long now... and it's finally over. You watch her burn into nothing but embers and ash, frozen in shock. Once there is nothing left, you see something on the ground where she burned--it looks like a small wooden stick. You kneel and pick it up, and instantly you understand what it is: a fragment of memory, carrying centuries of knowledge. You pick it up and hold it tightly in your hands, and you feel something stir within you.
You realize vaguely that your eyes are your own again. The man--the real one--approaches and you learn from him that the old woman/the hooded girl was an immortal who could only die by sacred flame. You both suspect that memories of being burned at the stake would be tied strongly to an existence like that. Internally, you think that holding onto memories like that must be too sad to bear.
Later that night, you send a text message to an unknown number, informing the recipient that you have uncovered an ancient relic that may contain incredible and powerful secrets.
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maleficafe) wrote2018-12-09 11:59 pm
11. Precious illusions part 2
Everything is dark. Robin can hear the old woman’s voice throughout everything. At first, she sees images of cave paintings from ancient times, mostly animals. The old woman calls these gods, the first ones humans ever knew. Robin denies it, saying they are devils, and that the devil himself fell from Heaven because he let his desires consume him.
As Robin argues, sometimes she addresses a young girl who alternately speaks with a young girl’s voice, and sometimes the old woman’s voice. The old woman counters with the argument that it was not this so-called “Devil” who fell, but God himself, as numerous atrocities were carried out in God’s name. Robin sees images of people burning at the stake. Robin says that such things were necessary, to save humanity from its misguided ways. The old woman says that it was not out of salvation that God acted, but jealousy. Jealousy that there were those like God, with power to rival Him--Witches. Robin keeps arguing, but they just go in circles. The old woman reiterates: innocent people were annihilated, all for the sake of the jealous ones who craved the power of God that they did not possess. And Robin carries the blood of those who were put to the stake.
The scene changes again: this time, Robin is in a church, and sees a young woman draped in white, bowing before the Pietà. The old woman proclaims that the girl is praying for the last time before she is condemned to the stake. Robin approaches the girl, and freezes when she sees that the girl... is her. The scene changes again, and Robin is alone. The old woman accuses her of “hunting her own shadow”, and Robin has visceral flashbacks to every witch she’s hunted until now.
Suddenly, she hears the sound of a gun cocking behind her, and turns to see Amon coldly pointing it at her. She sees all the STN-J members pointing their guns at her. “Witches must be hunted,” says Amon. Robin clutches her head and cries out that she is not a witch. She is alone again, the old woman’s voice in her head. She demands to know what makes her different from all the witches she hunted. Even if her Craft is used to hunt witches, what makes her so different from them? Was her belief that she was better than the witches she hunted all it took to justify burning them, just as they have burned at the stake for centuries? Isn’t she just continuing the cycle of violence? Robin is shaking. She hears footsteps, and sees Amon in front of her, pointing his gun. “Witches must be hunted.” Robin pleads with Amon. She needs him to understand. She’s not a witch. She needs him to put down the gun. He won’t listen. He’s pulling the trigger.
Robin’s eyes are filled with flames--and everything is darkness again.
Robin is in the church again, and sees the young girl from before in the wheelchair. She smiles at Robin, and says it can finally end. Robin blinks, and she sees before her the old woman in the wheelchair, smiling as she burns. It has been so long. And finally, finally, it is over. Robin stares in shock, watching the old woman die until there is nothing but embers and ash. She sees that the wooden cane is still partially intact, and kneels to touch it. Instantly, she understands: this is the Arcanum of the Craft, and it contains 400 years worth of knowledge. She picks it up, and holds it tight.
Amon (the real one) approaches from behind, and tells her the old woman was Methuselah, an immortal witch. The only way they can die is to be burned by a fire that consumes their entire body. Robin guesses this is why Methuselah used her, so that she could finally die. Amon supposes that memories of being burnt at the stake are strongly tied to an existence like hers... memories like that must be too sad to bear, Robin thinks.
Later that night, Robin sends a message through her compact: “Recovered a relic that is possibly related to the secret of the Craft. Standing by for further instructions.”
Memory Share edition
Your eyes are not your own. You know this.
Everything is very dark. You can hear an old woman speaking. You see images of ancient cave paintings, of animals, mostly. The old woman calls these gods, the first ones humans ever knew. They were worshipped as gods, and so they are gods. But you deny it; these are devils. You know what you have been taught, and you repeat it: the devil fell from Heaven because he let his desires consume him. As you argue, you are faced alternatively with the old woman and with a young girl in a hood who speaks with the old woman's voice. Sometimes the old woman speaks with the young girl's voice. She/They counter your argument with this: it was not this so-called "Devil" who fell, but God himself, citing the numerous atrocities that were carried out in God's name. You see flashes of images of people burning at the stake. You tell her such things were necessary, to save humanity from its misguided ways. Not out of salvation that God acted, but jealousy, she/they counter. Yes, jealousy that there were those like God, with power to rival Him. Frantically, you keep arguing, but it just goes in circles. The old woman and the hooded girl proclaim: innocent people were annihilated, all for the sake of the jealous ones who craved the power of God that they did not possess. And you carry the blood of those who were sacrificed.
The scene changes, and you are standing in a church. A young woman is bowing before the pietà, draped all in white, praying. The old woman's voice tells you that the girl is praying for the last time before she is condemned to the stake. You slowly approach her, but you freeze, because as soon as she lifts her head you can see--she is you.
The scene changes again. You're alone, and it is dark. The old woman and the hooded girl are both here. They accuse you of hunting your own shadow, and you remember all at once: every person whose blood is on your hands, whose lives you shattered. You hear the sound of a gun cocking from behind, and turn to see... him. That man. Standing right behind you, eyes cold, dispassionately pointing a gun at your head. You're surrounded. They're all pointing their guns at you. Someone like you... has to be put down. You clutch your head and cry out: I'm not like them! Suddenly you're alone again, and the old woman's voice asks you: what makes you so different from them? Was it the belief that you're different, you're special, enough to justify destroying their lives? To propogate centuries of violence? You're shaking, and you break out in a cold sweat. You hear footsteps, and you know that man is behind you again, ready to pull the trigger on you. Someone like you must be taken care of. You're dangerous. You're forsaken. But you need him to understand, you need him to put the gun down and listen. He's not listening. You plead, and plead, and slowly he pulls the trigger...
For a moment, all you see is fire.
You're back in the church again, unharmed. This time, the old woman sits before you at the altar, her body slowly catching fire. But she does not seem pained. She smiles at you, and with a sigh of relief, says that it's been so long now... and it's finally over. You watch her burn into nothing but embers and ash, frozen in shock. Once there is nothing left, you see something on the ground where she burned--it looks like a small wooden stick. You kneel and pick it up, and instantly you understand what it is: a fragment of memory, carrying centuries of knowledge. You pick it up and hold it tightly in your hands, and you feel something stir within you.
You realize vaguely that your eyes are your own again. The man--the real one--approaches and you learn from him that the old woman/the hooded girl was an immortal who could only die by sacred flame. You both suspect that memories of being burned at the stake would be tied strongly to an existence like that. Internally, you think that holding onto memories like that must be too sad to bear.
Later that night, you send a text message to an unknown number, informing the recipient that you have uncovered an ancient relic that may contain incredible and powerful secrets.